


A Good Thing

by Unusual_Raccoon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Helena Bertinelli (mentioned) - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Not for fans of Merlance, Past Helena Bertinelli/Oliver Queen, Past Laurel Lance/Tommy Merlyn, Post-Episode: s01e08 Vendetta, Tommy Merlyn (mentioned) - Freeform, fudged with the timeline so sue me, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29745990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon
Summary: Laurel is running from a good thing with Tommy, she's not sure why and the realization comes from the most unlikely of places.
Relationships: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 15
Kudos: 16





	A Good Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by some anti-laurel shit I stumbled upon on tumblr, so I wanted to turn that negativity into something I would enjoy.
> 
> Also, I do reference one of my other fics in this. So, see if you can spot it :).

Commitment had never really been an issue for Laurel, if she wanted something, she’d do it. Growing up she had wanted to help people in the same way her father had, using the law to deliver justice, so she became a lawyer - no hesitation, no fear. After abandoning her opportunity for a corporate job at a prestigious law firm and opening CNRI in the Glades, Laurel was determined to make a difference in the city, to bring those residing at the bottom of the barrel that was Starling City to justice regardless of the consequences. 

She had always been the type of person to jump headfirst into something, to give every bit of herself to something she believed in. Yet, her current predicament gave her pause. That predicament being her relationship with Tommy. Well, rather, resuming her relationship with Tommy. He had broken things off, and it was up to Laurel to take him him back.

Tommy, dear, sweet Tommy who was one of her oldest friends, Tommy who had never committed to anything in his life, Tommy who went through girls faster than a box of tissues during allergy season, Tommy who despite their recent hiccup was still trying to move in...with her.

The thing was, Laurel liked Tommy, he was funny and sweet and a part of Laurel knew she should be overjoyed at the prospect of settling down and creating something stable, particularly with one of her most beloved friends.  _ Yet… _

The thought didn’t inspire feelings of giddiness that accompanied that whirlwind honeymoon phase of a new relationship. No, rather, thinking about it made her stiff with apprehension and worry.

Because she wasn’t just settling down with sweet Tommy, she was settling down with all of Tommy. He was ridiculously jealous, he was insecure, his solution to any obstacle was typically to throw money at it until it went away - though in his defense, that would be much more of a challenge since his father had cut him off. It was hard to sever the reality of who she knew him to be from the person he was trying to become. Maybe that was shallow of her, she didn’t really know. Thinking back on previous relationships, Laurel scoffed at the memory of the bright eyed twenty two year old girl with dreams of marriage and life of her very own, a life with someone who was  _ not  _ Tommy Merlyn.

Laurel jumped in surprise at the sound of a knock at her front door, her eyes went wide as the knock sounded again, identical in rhythm to the first. Slinking off of the couch, Laurel felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment at the thought of Tommy at the front door… she wasn’t sure she could handle him right now.

Her heart rose up to nestle in her throat as she peeked through the peephole of her front door. She blinked, her face hot and heart hammering as she glimpsed the figure on the other side of the door. Her heart sank back down where it belonged, fluttering in her chest at the sight of her visitor.

The culprit revealed to be simultaneously better and worse than what she feared. Pulling the door open, the deadbolt chain rattled as she hastily undid it.

“Ollie,” Laurel greeted quietly, a smile unintentionally pulling at her lips. Out of all the other reasons she had contemplated against delving into a real relationship with Tommy, Oliver had to be the one at the top of the list.

“Hi,” He murmured, one large hand rubbing at the back of his neck, “Is it alright if I come inside?” He asked in an equally quiet voice, and despite the way their last encounter in her apartment had ended with the Chinese Triad ravaging her home, Laurel didn’t hesitate to let him in.

“Of course,” She said, pulling the door back to allow him inside, trying to smother the way her stomach seemed to free float in her abdomen with a glittery excitement as he brushed past her. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, telling herself the way she raked her eyes over him was just out of concern - purely out of concern, and definitely not because the material of his sweater hugged every dip and bulge of his torso to perfection, or because his butt looked fantastic in those jeans…

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Oliver soothed instantly with a stiff smile, pausing in the walkway as Laurel closed the front door behind them.

“Not that I’m complaining, but uh, what are you doing here?” Laurel asked, instantly regretting her choice of words, especially when rewarded with that knowing lift of his brows.

“I wanted to apologize.” Oliver explained, those large hands stuffed into his pockets, hands roughened with calluses that made her skin tingle even from the most mundane touch.

“For?” Laurel probed, not that she wasn’t glad to see him, she’d already made that quite clear, but what on Earth could Oliver have to apologize about. If anything Laurel thought she could quite some time without having to hear another one of his apologies - she felt like she’d heard so many of them already.

“For what happened at dinner…” Oliver said in a long exhale, like the events had been weighing on him. Right, dinner. The dinner that had miraculously turned into a double date and then unfortunately, and unsurprisingly, went up in smoke - for a number of reasons. Laurel had overstepped a boundary by bringing up the whole joint club venture, but Tommy told her he and Oliver had straightened things out. Then there was the matter of Oliver’s date finding out that  _ they _ used to date, it wasn’t a secret but apparently it came as news to Helena. And despite both of those things, the night might have been salvageable if it was literally anyone else...but it wasn’t, it was Oliver, and things always got messy with him.

“It’s not a big deal.” Laurel said, trying to wave away the apology, while it was appreciated, it was Tommy who had fled in a temper tantrum and Helena who had balked with nothing but judgement at their complicated history . If anything, Laurel liked to think she and Oliver were in the clear, all they had done was enjoy the evening...maybe a little too much.

“No, I shouldn’t have let you and Tommy join us-” Oliver said with a shake of his head.

“Ollie, you were just trying to be a good friend.” Laurel hummed, reaching up instinctively to rub his shoulder as a means of calming him. They both seemed to let out a breath at the contact, her thumb working in circles over his shoulder, feeling the tension ebb out of him marginally.

Oliver let out a scoff, the kind that told Laurel, as much as he wanted to believe what she was saying he didn’t.

“Well, if we’re playing the blame game, then I guess I shouldn’t have accepted the offer.” A smile pulled at her lips as Oliver fixed her with an unamused look. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen him so serious. In a way Laurel knew it was true, they had both leapt into dinner without thinking, well, without thinking of their respective dates. Thinking back on the night, she felt her cheeks heat with shame, it shouldn’t have been surprising when Tommy and Helena had stormed out of the restaurant the way they had.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Oliver shot back, a delicate line forming between his brows where they scrunched together in confusion.

“I could say the same thing about you, Ollie.” Laurel pointed out with a smirk, watching as Oliver fell silent after a stretch of time. It was pretty cute that he thought he could win this argument against her of all people. She watched as a charming dimple creased his cheek where Laurel knew he began chewing the inside of his cheek.

Her hand still lingered on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fine weave of his snug sweater. He hung his head down, before taking a glance up at her, those blue eyes looked unbearably pretty when framed by his ridiculously full eyelashes. Her stomach tingled and face grew warm the longer she let herself stew under his gaze.

Laurel let out a breath, giving his shoulder a playful squeeze, watching the way the cold blue of his eyes thawed into something warm and dangerously playful.

“So,” Laurel drawled with a smile, “If we’re done beating ourselves up, I could actually use your advice on something.”

Then Oliver laughed, not the usual gruff chuckle she had come to associate with him in the recent months since his return from certain death on a remote island. The thing about it was, his laughter wasn’t cruel or condescending. No, this laughter was deep and genuine, blooming like a bushel of ripe fruit straight from his soul. The sound was decadent, pouring sweet and sticky like honey into her. It was wrong, Laurel knew it, but damn if it wasn’t the most wonderful thing she’d heard in a  _ very  _ long time.

His laughter died down after a little while, his smile faded but not entirely gone when he stared at her once more.

“Oh...you’re serious?” Oliver asked, his brows drawn together in surprise. He scratched curiously at his cheek, his blunt nails hissing over the sandy blonde stubble. He glanced over his shoulder after a moment, like he was anticipating someone more qualified or possibly less inappropriate to come barreling in with sage wisdom to soothe the raw chafe or her current situation.

“Uh, okay, how can I help?” He asked, and Laurel couldn’t help but smile at the question and the way in unsurprisingly reminded her of his boyish enthusiasm from years past. That same enthusiasm that inspired her to go on a weekend road trip with Oliver after Sara had totaled her car and Laurel had been coerced by her parents to give her own up, since her sister had gone away to college, how else was she supposed to get around? She recalled the jingle of the keys to Oliver’s priceless sports car when he had tossed them to her. That encouraging smirk that said, ‘yeah, I want  _ you _ to drive’ and ‘yeah, you deserve to have some fun’ and ‘yeah, you can wreck it if you want, ‘cause it’s just a thing that can be replaced, and seeing you smile is more important than a stupid car’.

Laurel blinked back the memory, not quite able to shelf the burgeoning fondness that had taken root in her chest where she stared at him. He was different, older and damaged, but still himself in all of the ways that mattered.

“What kind of advice are we talking about?” Oliver continued, head tilted imploringly, as though this mission to help her took precedence over all else. Laurel felt an embarrassed flush color her cheeks, how did she about bringing up her predicament without making things more awkward than they already were?

“Well,” Laurel began, teeth catching nervously at her lower lip, a thrill of heat spiraling through her at the way Oliver’s gaze briefly dipped down to study the occurrence. She let out a breath in an attempt to will away the sudden bout of nerves she was experiencing. The tingle of worry seemed to retreat like a low tide, no longer drowning her in the feeling when Oliver gave her that look - that, ‘you can trust me’ kind of look. And dammit, convoluted history aside, she still trusted him. It was a bizarre trust, the kind of feeling that came more naturally than breathing, something she had  _ never _ felt with Tommy. Her father would be changing colors faster than a chameleon if he were there.

“I was looking for some relationship advice.” Laurel admitted, watching as Oliver seemed to pale at the request, blowing out a deep breath through his nose.

She could feel embarrassment creep back in on her once more, threatening to swallow her up for her own stupidity, when she felt the warmth of his palm settle on her shoulder. It was startling and hot, zapping her back into herself like a defibrillator.

“ _ Hey _ ,” Oliver said, his voice soft and comforting.

“I’m happy to talk about whatever you want,” Oliver said and now it was Laurel’s turn to scoff in disbelief, “I’m serious.” He persisted, always so stubborn.

“I’m just not sure I'm the best candidate to be talking about relationships with…” He admitted rather guiltily, lips curled in that soft self-deprecating smile.

“Why not?” Laurel asked, her own stubbornness surfacing, she knew why it was a bad idea, knew why it was ridiculous to ask the guy that cheated on her with her own sister for relationship advice.

Oliver licked his lips, it was a subtle yet hypnotizing motion that Laurel felt crude for staring at.

“Helena broke up with me.”

Well, she hadn’t seen that coming. Laurel felt her mouth part open in an expression betraying her surprise. It was clearer than ever that she wasn’t the only one with relationship troubles.

“I’ll go make some tea.” Laurel said with a nod, marching off to the kitchen

Eventually Laurel sank down onto her previously assumed spot on the couch, mug of herbal tea in hand as she patted the cushion beside her for Oliver to join her. Thankfully he joined her with a sigh, reclining back into the cushions with a matching mug of tea, which looked hilariously small in his hands.

“So, what happened?” Laurel asked, nudging his knee with her own when all he did was provide her with a very underwhelming shrug of his broad shoulders. She nudged him again stubbornly, if he was hurting, he was doing a fantastic job of hiding it. A part of her ached at the thought. Laurel had never been a particularly jealous person, likely because she had been sanitized of most selfish instincts shortly after her sister had been born. Still, perhaps Tommy had been onto something when he pointed out that she wasn’t a huge fan of Helena, but if she made Oliver happy, who was she to judge?

“We just wanted different things, I guess.” He said blandly.

Laurel tested the temperature of her tea with her upper lip, grimacing at the sting of the heat, she could give it a minute or two longer to cool off.

“So, what’s going on with you?” Oliver asked, sipping at the tea that Laurel knew was far too hot, though that didn’t seem to deter him in his quest to dodge her questions.

“Ollie...you’re deflecting.” Laurel pointed out as she snagged a throw pillow to settle in her lap.

“Sure am,” He said with a wily grin, “but that’s not important, what is important is this-” Oliver said, deftly leaning forward to snatch the worn scrap of paper she had abandoned on her coffee table earlier. Tommy’s list...the ridiculous list of reasons he had written to convince her why he was deserving of a drawer, like a child propositioning their parents for a puppy.

“Hey-” Laurel called, trying not to spill her tea while she attempted to tear the paper back. It felt like an immature exchange, wobbling forward on her knees as Oliver lifted the paper pinched between his fingers high above his head. Thankfully he relented before she scrabbled too closely beyond that tenuous line they both seemed to be toeing, the tea subsequently became not the only thing to warm them up as he returned the paper with an awkward cough.

“I’m sorry-” Oliver began quietly, he was always apologizing.

“-Don’t be.” Laurel murmured with a shake of her head, cutting him off before he could finish the sentiment. She tried to melt away that tingling feeling in her chest with a scalding mouthful of tea. It didn’t help.

She placed her mug of tea down for a moment, hearing the ceramic clink where it met the little circular coaster on her coffee table. With her hands free Laurel began smoothing about the wrinkles in the piece of paper, it scrawled on the back of a takeout menu, that Thai place she liked.

“This was a bad idea.” Laurel muttered, a tingle wriggling up her spine when she felt Oliver lean closer, it was cautious but still noticeable.

“Hey,” He purred, “A really smart person once told me, on this very couch I might add, that I am an adult and if I get uncomfortable with something I have the ability to say no,” Oliver said, she could hear the smug smile in his voice as her cheeks grew warm at the memory of the very encounter he was referencing - smooth fucker, “and until that point, I’m all ears.”

Laurel shot a rueful glare at him, she hated that he could pick apart her defenses like that, she hated that she loved it.

She let out a melodramatic sigh that made them both smile, leaning forward she gathered her tea cup back into both hands before settling back into her seat.

“This is going to sound so cliche…” Laurel muttered, still in a state of shock that she was having  _ this  _ conversation with Oliver Queen.

“Is it the sex?” Oliver supplied, the question making her grin like a middle schooler who had just uttered their first curse word. It was appalling and embarrassing, and not the kind of thing she had expected to leap out of his mouth. Her blush burned all the way up to her ears, it was hot and mortifying, and why the hell was Oliver looking at her like that?

“Oh my god - no,” She squealed, swinging a pillow in his direction threateningly, he couldn’t just bring that up, not now, not when she was like this, not when he kept looking at her like that.

“I was going to say that it’s me, not him.” Laurel said with a shake of her head, cheeks still throbbing with her unrepentant blush.

“Ollie,” She hissed, dropping her head with a scandalized giggle, the kind that inspired a naughty sort of chuckle from him.

“Sorry, but it’s kind of an important question.” He said, sipping at his tea with that stupidly unapologetic grin.

Laurel sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her equally inappropriate smile still lingered.

“That’s not  _ all _ a relationship is about.” She countered defensively, though she knew it wasn’t entirely true. Physical intimacy played a role in most relationships, it certainly had when she and Oliver were together.

Oliver snorted, lips quirked in a knowing smirk, “With Tommy Merlyn?” He asked rhetorically. Right, Tommy, they were talking about Tommy. Though Laurel knew Oliver had a point, Tommy was just as much of a hedonist as Oliver, possibly even more so given the five years of isolation Oliver endured.

“Look, guys talk-” Oliver began, his words dying in his mouth as a rosy color darkened his cheeks.

“I mean, I didn’t - well, not about you, I never talked about...you.” He trailed off, voice small and ashamed, like he was worried about getting chastised for having brought up their past. But Laurel couldn’t blame him, their history was more tangled than the roots of a tree, stumbling upon it was more inevitable than the sun rising.

“Ollie.” Laurel said gently, managing to trip him out of his own startling embarrassment.

“Right, right, what I’m trying to say is, Tommy has shared in the past what he looks for in a girl… and sex is pretty high on that list.” Oliver admitted, and Laurel felt sort of dirty being privy to that kind of information. More importantly, she felt somewhat used, Tommy wanted sex and after Oliver had died she had given it to him.

Oliver twitched beside her, shifting on the couch like he was antsy, nervous even, Laurel could taste his unspoken words without even looking at him. She could taste the apology before he said it.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable…” Oliver said regretfully, but for the umpteenth time that night Laurel brushed the apology aside. She supposed she could do with some uncomfortable truths to work past whatever was keeping her bound in this trepidation over her relationship with Tommy.

“It’s fine, Ollie.” Laurel soothed, swallowing the brief bitterness that flickered in her with another mouthful of her herbal tea.

A small silence stretched on, only disrupted with the sound of their breathing and reserved sips of tea.

“I guess it sounds shallow when you say it out loud, but sexual compatibility is something to consider in a relationship.”

Laurel scoffed, not because she disagreed, but because she knew Oliver was right to an extent. When she had sex with Tommy it felt less like an loving exchange and more like a expectation. That wasn’t to say she didn’t enjoy it sometimes, because she did. Laurel just supposed that when they were together, she wasn’t overwhelmed with desire, perhaps she was too naive to think she could experience that at this point in her life.

“When did you get so wise?” Laurel asked with a raised brow, staring as Oliver lowered his mug of tea long enough for her to glimpse his smirk.

“I had a rather extended period of self reflection.” He said playfully, like the five years he had been stranded on that deserted island, being tortured and tormented weren’t literal hell for him. Like it hadn’t been the worst thing to ever happen to both of them. Her easy smile faltered at the thought.

Silence grew between them once more, not in the least uncomfortable, just sort of  _ there.  _ Present but unobtrusive.

“So, uh, how is it?” Oliver asked eventually, his voice quiet like they were sharing a secret. There was an intensity in the blue of his eyes where he stared at her, awaiting her answer.

“The sex.” He clarified, not that Laurel needed him to, she had known exactly what he was asking.

Laurel chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking on her answer, how was the sex she had with Tommy? More importantly, why didn’t Oliver seem the least bit perturbed by the conversation?

“It’s nice…” Laurel said after a moment, whipping her head in Oliver’s direction at his resulting wince.

“What?” She asked without hesitation and a hint of horror.

“Nice?” Oliver echoed with an adorably distracting wrinkle of his nose, looking particularly wounded at her choice of descriptor.

The blush staining her cheeks felt like a fixture then, like it belonged in the conversation, like it would never leave so long as they kept talking.

“I’m going to give you an example of something, and I want you to try and describe it in three words.” Oliver explained, something cruel glittering in his eyes.

“Halloween, 2005.” He said, almost smugly.

Laurel felt her blush burn hotter than what felt like the sun. This was the second time Oliver had brought up that night around her, and the first time he had done it, they had ended up with their tongues in each other’s mouths…

There was something vindictive in the way he soaked up her flustered expression, like he knew that, that night or any night they had been together for that matter was untouchable, that nothing she did with Tommy could compare. And he was right. Laurel could recall that night with unflinching clarity, the way she had dressed up for him, the way Oliver hadn’t been able to keep his eyes or his hands off of her, the way he had drooled over the fishnets she had worn…

“I can’t.” Laurel said, sagging back against the couch in defeat, tea abandoned on the coffee table so she could hide her face with her hands.

“Why not?” She heard Oliver ask, not teasing, but curious. Laurel shook her head, cheeks throbbing from her blush.

“Because I can’t...I- three words isn’t enough…” She admitted breathlessly, heat pooling unabashedly in her belly at the genuine look of surprise in his eyes, followed by a terrifying unguarded want. Oliver licked his lips suddenly, his Adam's apple bobbing like his throat had gone dry, and Laurel silently revelled at the thought. Despite not being able to describe the night he mentioned in a measly three words, Laurel knew without a doubt that  _ nice _ wasn’t a word she would’ve used.

They settled back against the couch, trying to put some distance between the vibrant ache that cropped between them. Oliver cleared his throat, like he was trying to shake something from his lungs.

“Moving on,” Oliver said stiffly, like it was some high school presentation, like there were steps he was following and he knew which one came next; if he did, Laurel just wished he would tell her.

“It’s clear he’s into you,” Oliver said, motioning to Tommy’s list that had been abandoned on the coffee table, “I don’t think Tommy’s ever put that much thought or effort into  _ anything _ .” Laurel nodded in agreement, she knew that as well as he did that it was true. It was endearing that he had gone to such lengths, yet it wasn’t moving, not in the way a gesture like that should’ve been.

“Yeah.” Laurel said, reaching for her tea that had since gotten cold.

“But,” Oliver began, the emphasis in his voice and tilt of his head drawing her attention, forcing her gaze to his. Laurel shrugged, awaiting the answer he would soon spoon feed her because the longer she thought about this the worse she felt.

“But you’re running from a good thing with Tommy.” Oliver pointed out, it wasn’t cruel or intended to hurt in the way Tommy had done after dinner, scorning her for not fawning over Oliver’s date.

“I guess so.” Laurel said solemnly, sipping at the cold chamomile tea.

“What if the ‘good thing’ isn’t the thing that I’m running from, what if I’m just running towards something else?” Laurel asked, chewing her lower lip as she met Oliver’s gaze from behind the lip of her mug.

Oliver let out a sigh, blue eyes bright where they bore into her, “Why would you run from something that you deserve?”

Laurel scoffed, spine throbbing with a numbing electricity like she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket.

“And when did Tommy Merlyn become the person that I deserve?” She asked sharply in return, folding her arms as best she could while holding the mug in one hand.

Oliver sucked in a breath, head hanging low, lips pressed firmly to keep himself from saying something - something real. When he lifted his head, the pain reflecting in his eyes was sobering

“Ollie…” Laurel called in a quiet whisper, an apology hanging on her tongue.

“Take it from someone who has experience running from a good thing,” Oliver began, rising up from the couch, making her heart constrict painfully in her chest at his words, “You’ll regret it.”

Laurel sniffled, her body buzzing with that numbing electricity, tingling from head to toe like she was glowing with static.

“Helena’s a lucky girl.” She imparted sourly, not even sure why she brought the other woman into it, likely to give him an out, a reason not to admit the truth that she felt burned into her very marrow.

“I’m not talking about Helena.” Oliver said finally, eyes raw like uncut sapphires, beautiful and flawed. 

Laurel felt a lump form in her throat, her eyes wet as she rose from the couch on shaky legs. Her chin wobbled as she watched him retreat to her front door, broad back disappearing from her, from her life all over again.

“Stop running.” Laurel said, her words sharp and cruel, digging into him like hooks, desperate to get him to stay. She could see it in the way his whole body shook, his resolve crumbling like a stonewall.

“Laurel…” Her name trembled on his tongue, pained like she was digging her fingers into an open wound - this one hadn’t scarred over like all of the others.

“Oliver.” She pushed back firmly, unwavering as he drew near as though pulled along by a string.

“Tommy loves you.” He said in return, futilely trying to hide his jagged edges liable for cutting a soft body like hers.

“So do you, I know you do.” She murmured, cheeks wet at the way he drank the affirmation in.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Laure persisted, knowing he couldn’t lie, not about that. A shiver coursing through as when she smelled the faint floral notes of tea on his breath, the warmth of his body washing over her in the close proximity they now existed in.

Her hands shook when they took his face carefully between them, feeling the last of his fear flee him. Laurel sucked in a breath as his arms wrapped around her, practically crushing her to his chest in a way that was exhilarating. It felt like coming home.

“I’m bad for you, Laurel.” Oliver admitted regretfully, pretty blue gemstone eyes wet with ashamed tears. He looked horrified, ravaged by his belief that he was never deserving of her seemingly endless love for him. Laurel shook her head in disagreement. Maybe five years ago, the kid who had jumped into bed with her sister, the dumb kid who had been too afraid of rejection to voice his own fear, he had hurt her, but bad? Oliver Queen could never be  _ bad _ . Not then and not now.

“No, you’re not, Ollie.” Laurel hummed against his chin, lips tingling beneath the scrape of his stubble. Staring up at him, she could see it plain as day, the thing she had been running towards for all of these years.

“I just finally caught up to you.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So this turned out a little differently than I initially intended, but whatever, I think I still like it.
> 
> If you enjoyed this fic please don't hesitate to leave a comment, I do love to hear what my readers have to say.


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